There are glimpses of
gold when
your shades are
rose-tinted
and when
the sting
of the past
is a feeling that's
       fading

and the thought of
next winter's
from mildew to
Emerald
and December's
devil
is
no longer
haunting

When there are curtains
of gold to be
draped all around
and suddenly sadness
is a song, not a
sound

and somewhere hums a
hope that
there's more we
can't see

there's a casket of
petals where
grief used to be

I saw the sun steep
into the seascape ―
lonely as a drowning
    wave
         on still-waters

the dimming of the day
rescinding evanescent daylight                                                         ­         .
fading with the slack tide
         lost at sea ―
a gloaming moment
         let fall from
the remains of the day,
like some other passing
sea bird's molted feather
drifts away untamed

I sit silent as the driftwood
lingering at the watermark,
watching a random gust
    erase the footprints
of another recurring day, 
bearing abandoned memories
    and vacant heartbeats,
atrophied in the drifting sands

    and I see you walking
    towards the abating  
    midnight sunset ―
         but I know
    you're just a mirage;    
like the dimming afterglow
of so many waning moons
            elapsed
         
ever-changing tides grow low  
and promises made lightly  
         do ebb away
          
Scanning the distant horizon ―    
    a blindfold heart    
    mooning all at sea;
parsing a deserted shoreline,
    wondering if love
          is too late ,..
    to stem the tide ―


        harlon rivers

      30   May   2018

what a pity

spent the last few years idling in a thin sense of self;
amid outstretched pores looking to photosynthesize more eccentric disposition
even though i know you know my woes consecrate through the spirit, through the veins
what i have shown you is thicker than blood–better count your blessings

so HA! neglect wont erase the ways ive molded your mind
its a gift, to
ditch reason for compassion
to breathe vanity
to breathe immortal sorrow…

my most absurd suggestion yet, now listen closely:
when the tips of my fingers freeze over, let sleeping mountains lie
do hate, but dont devour it;
holy holy holy holy hold the past like a knife
apologies for my insincerity but you must understand…
****, what is left of me?

trembling and then the blade clutters aloof, to and fro and to
i cower from the vision of my wicked phantom,
skin stretched tight over my bones–yet do what He says, for
He makes ruin a honey-like intoxicant
omega three, anti-this anti-that, acronyms galore,
each a little dose of layers of
Him, unraveling atop my fragility

My name is Elizabeth,
and you think you know me.
You've seen me every day,
since the year I turned three.

I am quiet, and reserved,
and smarter than most,
but my quiet demeanor,
turns me into a ghost.

I'm easily forgotten,
with all the ruckus and noise.
The laughing and shouting,
from the other girls and boys.

If I could speak up,
I'd tell you the truth.
I'd tell you he's lying,
about how I got this bruise.

If I wasn't so afraid,
to tell you my side,
then maybe you'd help me,
if you knew that he lied.

He says it's my fault,
that he has to teach me like this,
but I know better now,
that you don't teach with fists.

He teaches mommy too,
and she's afraid just like me,
but she still hides the marks,
so that no one will see.

I would love to make friends,
to run, laugh, and play.
But all the kids tease me,
for acting this way.

Maybe if you taught words,
like neglect, and abuse.
Then I'd know it was wrong,
and wouldn't be so confused.

But today I'll stay quiet,
just like mommy said.
Even though she was crying,
and her eyes were all red.

Daddy tells us he loves us,
that we're his princess, and queen.
But the brown bottle stuff,
makes him angry and mean.

Maybe if I took the brown bottle,
and poured it down the sink.
Then daddy would be happy,
and be able to think.

It won't hurt to try,
I'll do it after school.
Then maybe daddy can love us,
without being so cruel.

My name is Elizabeth,
and I stay out of sight.
I'm too scared to tell you,
but if you asked me, I might.

each love and i
like passing trains
whistling to each other
but never staying long

You followed down through the gathered pages
to the  labyrinth that leads back through the changes
A long and twisted line of unmapped rivers,
*** holed low-roads and tattered mileposts
glancing homeless back-alleys as dark as lonely crossroads

Past the broken wings that fell from skyward treetops
scattered feathers amongst rose petals wilted
at the hand of tear stained faded photos
of frozen black and white faces;
hidden ghosts in the closet that fell from grace

The pathway narrows where the traces dissipate
passing under burning bridges, beneath locked stairwells
A fickle feather floating upon rivers ragging
like the hubris disconnectedness of time rolling out to sea ―
Shadows growing darkest as you reach the blackest silence
and you kept the answers to all the questions at arms length
hidden in the darkness ― where you saw love disfigure me

It was then and there I knew I'd dreamed of someone like you
looking for someone more than I could ever be
Just an unsated curiosity,    trying to see beyond
your own misunderstanding,   to feel and touch
an unknown depth beyond  reach

As sunset pales the distantness, the night is yours alone
when  tomorrow's  morning  rain
hangs  on  the  falling  leaves       ―       I’ll  be  gone
Just a wayfaring loner in a lonely world

Where rivers are only water
                                         and love was once a flowing river
I thirst to swallow ― 
                                         to wash away these tracks of my tears ...


                                      rivers ... 2017

Someone I once knew

and cared for long ago

took the slow ****** train home


a friend arrived alive

home from Iraq

broken, full of static


my father's trail

of caring drew the pancreatic

hound from hell


sadly, but

for the life of me,

I can’t load all that ****


into a broken boat

to shove away

out onto a moonlit sea.

I followed his footprints in the snow
Thinking his path was the way to go
He didn’t even seem to notice I was there
I spoke to him as we walked but he didn't care
I stopped at several places along the way
He just kept moving forward with nothing to say
After a while I felt so alone and so tired
And I began to drift further and further behind
Though I could still see him way up ahead
He turned onto another path to walk instead..
Eventually I realized I could no longer see
As he moved relentlessly on without me
His footprints start to fade and then they disappear
He never even knew I was near
I stood at the path he turned to walk on...
Unable to move forward
And I turn to walk...
Away...

*Maybe one day our paths will cross again